GREETINGS & SALUTATIONS

so here goes...what is a writer, a person who puts pen to paper and creates documentation of thoughts or an essence of being that even without the act of actually writing forms a sense of self? i think on some level i have always identified with the latter, but after giving birth to Atticus (my son) found myself cocooned by the former. once in three years i have dared to expose a weakness in the chrysalis and put pen to paper, only to retreat back to inaction. Circe (my daughter) arrived and screamed cracks in my safe of thoughts like an opera singer cracks crystal. i found my self flooded with fragments stored in the cranial filing system under "for future use"...certainly the future had not become the present, i did not feel ready.
i have said that the birth of Atticus was so chaotic but that his presence in the home brought a sense of order to my life that i have never known. Circe's birth however, was so calm and focused, yet she brought home chaos and a few other friends. while in the recesses of my own thoughts i pondered writing again, the desire to create was strong and yet i remained stagnant. i thought about order, its nature is contrary to any prior understanding of myself as a writer and person. chaos proved the catalyst into the dark place my fragments reside; under the most comfortable quilt slept Fear dreaming the fragments into a cohesive form.
i decided to do battle with that demon bitch Fear. two sleeping children, a bottle of wine and some paper, something is missing. two sleeping children, a bottle of wine, some paper and a husband who was working late...something is missing. I HAVE NO PEN
Fear stole my pen (actually it was probably Atticus drawing on the dining room table and i took it away and hid it...but for dramatic purposes...) after some frantic searches i found myself on the dining room floor drifting in and out of thoughts dripping with the answer of why i couldn't write. i had taken the proverbial block and built the great wall around my creative cortex, when a fragment is born i place in behind the wall (Gaea anyone?) because i an afraid of partnering it with others, because i am afraid of what it may end up saying, and what that says about me.

i smote Fear on the banks of the mighty Delaware.

if i do not do this i will go insane, who cares what i say, think or believe...i will be an exercise in contradictions.

welcome to my luminous interval